


This Hideous Heart

by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Death?, Demon Deals, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Sacrifice, Uncertain endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofcamelot/pseuds/Leahelisabeth
Summary: Bad Bob was one of the greats and he passed that talent on to his son.  No one knew that their legacy was not what it seemed.  Written for omgcpumpkins on Tumblr.





	This Hideous Heart

For the most part, Jack was used to it all by now. Sure the other kids used to make fun of him for the stench of sulfur on his clothes but his famous father was usually enough to make them stop. And the way his father’s eyes turned red had been pretty terrifying when he was a child but now it was just a part of what made Bad Bob the man he was. Besides, at Samwell, he was far enough away from the altar in their basement that the smell began to fade. All he had to contend with was the legacy.

He had a bit of a hiccup when he was first trying to be drafted. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about the anxiety. But he slowly found his groove again at Samwell and carved out his own space on the ice. If he was being completely honest, a lot of that was down to one itty bitty blond baker. Things were going so well.

And then it happened. Jack looked down at his ringing phone and saw his father’s number there. Bad Bob hadn’t called him in years. His mom assured him that his emotions just ran really deep and he did in fact care for his son, but Jack often had a hard time seeing it. And Jack knew, even as he answered, that it was nothing good.

“Hello?” Jack asked.

There was nothing but tearful silence on the other end.

“Bob?” Jack prompted.

“Oh god, Jack, what have I done?” Bob’s voice was quiet and desperate.

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Jack’s stomach crawled.

“It’s over. I’m free. The demon is gone,” Bob tried to disguise the note of hysteria in his voice but Jack was too familiar with the feeling to miss it now.

Jack wasn’t surprised. He knew that there was something more than natural about his father’s skill, but the word demon had never been said out loud. It was something for secret basements and shameful pasts.

“You’re retiring then,” Jack said. 

“Yes,” Bob replied. “I’ll say it was a training injury that will take me out for the season and that I had been planning for this to be my last all along. I’m ready to pass the mantle on to the other younger members of the team. I would have liked to hold the cup one more time but who knows if our team could have stood against the Falconers, against you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad, I wish there was something I could do,” Jack whispered, gripping the phone with white knuckles.

“I’m sorry...If I’d been thinking...it’s your burden now and I wish…” Bob trailed off into silence.

Jack went cold. “What do you mean, it’s my burden now?”

“My bargain. It wasn’t just for me. It was for future generations. So you know how you’re so lucky and you’ve never been seriously injured? And how you can see the path of the puck so clearly it’s almost like you’re living just a few seconds in the future? That was my gift, the gift that...he...gave me.”

“Dad, what the hell? You’re scaring me!” Jack yelled.

“I can’t tell you any more. He’ll let you know what you have to do. Just know that I’m really sorry. I wanted to protect you from this. I had no idea,” Bad Bob trailed off and then just hung up.

“Dad? Dad?” Jack called into the phone. But his dad was gone. And slowly the fading smell of Bitty’s most recent pie was replaced by the stench of sulphur.

“Is someone there?” Jack asked, his voice quivering.

“Do you know what I am?” A rasping voice emanates from the darkest corner of the kitchen.

“A demon?” Jack whispered.

“Nice of your father to warn you what was to come. Do you know what I want?” The voice chuckled. Jack squinted into the dim light and realized a dark shape was sitting in his spot at the kitchen table.

“N-no,” Jack stuttered.

“I have been helping your family for generations. That skill you have, all the success you are enjoying, even that chiselled jawline and pretty cheekbones that don’t get disfigured no matter how many times you get a puck to the face, that’s all down to me. But no longer. You Jack Zimmermann are now nothing more than an average athlete. A little below average actually,” the demon strode forward into the center of the kitchen and Jack shrunk as its full height was revealed.

“You can’t do this!” Jack shouted. 

“I gave you this power and I can take it away,” The demon gripped Jack by the jaw and shook him until he was dizzy.

“What...what do you need from me?” Jack asked softly.

“A sacrifice, something dear to you. You’ll know what it is when you see it,” the demon grinned, jagged teeth like tombstones glinting in the light over the stove.

And Jack thought of everything he possessed, all his hockey trophies and jerseys, his history books, presents from his mother, and he could think of nothing that would not be immediately replaceable. His heart clenched for a moment as he caught a glimpse of a fridge door covered in post it notes, perhaps the dearest thing he could think of at the moment, but even those were replaceable. Bitty would understand and write him a thousand more.

“Alright,” Jack said. “I will do it.”

“Excellent,” the demon chuckled. “You have three days. If you have not made an acceptable sacrifice by then, your gift will be forfeit.”

Jack nodded and then threw a window open the moment the demon vanished. He took deep gulps of fresh air and tried to keep his hands from shaking.

The first thing he did was do a walk through of his apartment, looking for things he loved and trying to discover if that was possible what the demon meant. He was glad he didn’t have to rush. He did not wish to sacrifice the wrong thing in a panic. He had collected a pile of possible objects and was looking at them thoughtfully when he heard a key turning in the lock.

“Honey, I’m home,” that rich tenor voice he had memorized came from the kitchen. “Why are all the lights out?” And Jack wanted nothing more than to curl up in Bitty’s lap and forget this day for a while. He all but ran into the kitchen and then stopped short because something was different. The taste of sulphur was back in the air and a black mark, like a smudge, hovered in the air over Bitty;s forehead. And then Jack remembered what he had neglected to add to the list of things he held most dear.

“Oh,” he said softly, and then collapsed on the floor.

* * *

He woke up to fingers combing through his hair and a sweet voice calling his name. He wanted to wake up this way for the rest of his life. He pushed himself up a little higher and sealed his ear against Bitty’s chest, listening to his heart beat. A vision flashed before his eyes, Bitty, lying on the floor, a hole in his chest, this same heart beating in his hand and held out to the demon. 

“What happened, honey?” Bitty asked softly.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Jack said, pulling himself up off the floor. He wavered a little once he got to his feet and Bitty was there immediately to guide him to a chair at the kitchen table, the same chair the demon had been sitting in not so long ago. “I maybe forgot to eat supper today because my dad called and now my blood sugar is a little low. Nothing you can’t fix, eh, Bits?”

“Lord, Jack, obviously I’m going to feed you now. I brought leftovers with me and I’m going to forget my hatred of the microwave so I can get hot food in you now,” Bitty hopped up and started bustling around the kitchen. He slowed and looked back when he saw the way Jack was looking at him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I was just...thinking about how joyless my life will be without you in it,” Jack sighed.

“Lord, what a morbid thought. You better just be thinking in hypotheticals, Mr Zimmermann, because I am planning to be around for a very long time. In fact, since you’re such a old man, it’s quite likely that I’LL be the one living the joyless existence after YOU’RE gone,” Bitty chirped gently.

Jack smiled and tried to pull himself together. “Not if you continue to consume butter at unprecedented rates,” he tried to smile.

Bitty patted his tight tummy. “My six pack begs to differ.” He set a warmed plate of chicken and pasta in front of Jack. “Get that in your stomach and then I’ll give you something even more restorative.” Bitty winked suggestively.

Jack didn’t have much time to think until much later, curled up in bed, enjoying the afterglow, a soft and pliant Eric Bittle drowsing in his arms. Could he really stand to lose this? He fell asleep before he received an answer.

It started in his dreams, softly at first, two beats and a pause, two beats and a pause. And then it grew louder. When dawn started to peek through the curtains, Jack couldn’t focus on anything, just two beats and a pause. When Bitty stirred, he tried to distract himself again but the beats came faster as he was kissing and he realized what he was hearing. He fled to the bathroom leaving both of them unsatisfied.

“I just need some space, Bits,” he called out from his seat on the toilet. “I want you here but I’m have a rough time.”

“I saw the news about your dad,” Bitty said. “I understand. I’m going to head out shopping and let you work through this. Text me if you need anything.”

And Bitty closed the apartment door behind him and Jack enjoyed the blessed silence. He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through all the headlines about his father’s injury and retirement but he couldn’t continue, not when the same fate might be staring him in the face.

He could hear Eric returning long before he heard the door. The beating of Bitty’s heart was pulsing through him like a big bass drum. He could hardly hear his boyfriend speaking and his thoughts were too scattered to respond.. He could see the hurt look on Bitty’s face and knew, beyond the shadow of the doubt, that one way or the other, he was about to lose the sunshine in his life.

Bitty stood to take care of the dishes and Jack rushed him, crowding him up against the counter, hitching Bitty’s narrow hips up onto the counter so that his toned legs could wrap around his waist.and he kissed his boyfriend like he was drowning. Bitty held him just as fiercely.

He leaned forward, deepening the kiss, and the hand he left on the counter to brace himself met cold steel. Bitty had already laid out the knife to cut the pie for dessert. Jack fumbled a little before he found the handle.

There was a gasp.

A cough.

“Jack?!”

And there was nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: Bad Bob Zimmermann didn’t come by his talent naturally, and neither did Jack (not that he’s aware). Bob made a deal (with a djinn, demon, faerie, whatever) and now they have come to collect their payment from the Zimmermann line.


End file.
